Encounterlogs
Deans Odd Encounter Sr Freya 240705
In the post-dusk coolness of Haven, Dean's mundane night at the bar-and-stage establishment known as The Alley takes an unexpected turn. After a long day of battling the heat and preparing for another night of service, Dean finds himself swept into a fantastically surreal world, far removed from the worn familiarity of The Alley. This transition is not merely an escape from the physical confines of his workplace but a dramatic shift into a dreamlike realm dominated by pastel landscapes, where the natural laws he's familiar with no longer apply. Here, he encounters a being of sublime beauty, introducing herself with the allure and authority of Aphrodite, yet her essence whispers of something far more ancient and fey. This entity, a true Fae with an interest in Dean, transforms the ordinary into the incredible, confronting him with a scene that challenges his perceptions and understanding of reality.
Caught between bewilderment and resistance, Dean's interaction with the Fae goddess unfolds with a mix of defiance and involuntary compliance. Despite the overwhelming enchantment of this pocket dream world, Dean's inherent skepticism and reluctance to submit keep him grounded, albeit shakily, in his sense of self. His attempt to assert control, or perhaps to provoke, by threatening the unicorn—a symbol of purity and strength in this surreal domain—only serves to deepen his entanglement in the Fae's web of seduction and power. The physical and mental effects of touching the unicorn hint at the potent magic at play, binding Dean to the whims of a creature whose desires and intentions are as capricious as they are inscrutable. Even as he finds himself kneeling, a gesture betraying the confrontation between his will and the enchantment ensnaring him, his defiant spirit remains unbroken. This story concludes with Dean caught in the throes of a power struggle, wherein his resistance is as much a testament to his character as the peculiar allure of the Fae proves to be a force beyond his reckoning.
(Dean's odd encounter(SRFreya):SRFreya)
[Thu Jul 4 2024]
At the Bar-and-Stage at The Alley
Carpeting stretches across the laminate flooring here, stained by footprints
and years of use, creating areas for lounge seating. Set up in front of a tiny
stage and a corner bar, here visitors are invited to grab a drink together, to
socialize, and perhaps even take the stage where a karaoke machine is prepared
for all those brave enough. The bar itself has seen better days, its counter a
gouged and scratched remnants of its former self, and almost all of the tables
and chairs in the room are similarly in need of either repair or replacements.
The corner bar displays a select assortment of draft beers and liquor - though
a good look behind the bar might cast the legitimacy of the liquor licenses in
doubt. Though dingy, the stools set up around this corner of the establishment
seem to be newer than any other furniture, featuring genuine ruddy-red leather
bar stools, and are actually pretty comfortable to sit on for lengthy periods.
It is dawn, about 88F(31C) degrees, and there are a few wispy white clouds in the sky.
(Your target is swept into a pocket dream world by a true Fae interested in a romantic liaison
)
It was a coolish night in Haven. A blissful respite for all it's residence much needed after a scorching 42 degree day. Doors and windows were flapping open lazily and it is honestly surprising there isn't a roaring business for security windows and grills given the normal denizens of Haven.
The beach is still not deserted even at this time of the night, with people chased out of sun heated homes finding somewhere to laze about and rest.
The moon is a small crescent in the sky with gentle clouds drifting past. There is no wind circle around it, signaling another hot, muggy, windless day tomorrow that the residents will just have to suffer.
Around the town air conditioner repairmen hurriedly try to make repairs on many devices that have broken down due to overuse and the heat and even the local residents, used to Haven's ups and downs seem sick of the sticky and hot weather.
In the Alley, which had not yet cooled down likely due to a lack of windows or ventilation or some mixture of another. Dean is finishing up at the bar. Everything had been wiped down, lemons and limes had been cut and fridged for another day and the salt shakers restocked for those margarita's licked off of stomachs. As he opens the door to his office for some quiet respite, the earth seems to drop out from beneath him without him stepping further. Reality shifts and bends and one moment he was at the alley - about to relax and the next minute he was in a insane land of pastel colours.
The sky was a pastel pink that stretched from one end of the horizon to the other. The trees, where they would be green were blue, lined with gold, their trunks made of the earthly metal they seemed to suck straight from the ground beneath. The ground was a lush pastel green with long blades of grass that were impossibly soft, their stalks bending under Dean's weight but not enough that his feet actually touched the ground. The felt like he was stepping on air.
Infront of him was a lush garden of strange plants that he had never seen before. Flowers the size of Dean's head grew from strange yellow and orange plants. Some of them were alive, snapping at each other while others turned towards the sun like flowers in earnest. Nestled in the center of the garden, on a decadant chaise lounge made of pure gold, a woman lays on a lion stripped fur that was by far too large to come from any earthly lion. Hair the colour of gold falls down to the ground in large waves at a length that would probably be longer than her entire body if she were standing. Eyes also the colour of molten gold stare out from a face that was so beautiful it hurt to look at. The rest of her body was no different, clad in a simple white Greek style gown if Greek were the skimpiest of styles. A single strip of white cloth ran was trapped in her waist, running up over one breast, around the back of her neck and then back down over the other breast. More strips of cloth covered her groin, criss crossing over it and the material of the gown itself, even from the distance Dean appreciates it at looks luxurious and expensive. The back of her dress is an actual skirt that is currently flowing around her bent legs. Her head rests upon one elbow and those brilliant eyes of gold are staring straight at Dean. Behind her, there are two women, dressed as Valkyries - very skimpy Valkyries who are holding two large palm fronds, gently waving it over her head.
At her side, a unicorn is lying down, allowing one of the woman's hands to reach over to pet the majestic creatures main.
"Hello Dean." A voice whispers both in Dean's ears and in his head at the same time. "Welcome to my world." The voice was lyrical, lustful and had a quality that made one want to listen to it forever while wanting to clap their hands over their ears at the same time. Too beautiful. Just like her. "I've been watching you..." The hand petting the unicorn lifts up towards Dean and a single finger, tipped in a perfect nail beckons towards Dean.
The sort of exhaustion one would have at the end of a long shift had plagued Dean, currently. Mental weight, as opposed to physical. With all that he had set out to do for his nightly shift nearly done, it was time to call in a break for a midnight meal, and there was really nowhere better than the back office for it. Or so he'd think. As he wiped his hands clean on a rag, tossed it over his shoulder at the bar - and told the other tender, the gothic lass that everyone has come to love and respect, to handle the rest of them on their own, which wasn't that big of a deal given they were just slumbering drunks sleeping halfway into their last call drinks, he turned away.
Yet, past that door, it wasn't the comfort of an office for workers. He didn't hear the scent of paint past it before everything swirled and swam and the earth underneath his feet replaced for something far, far different. It was thick with magic, and the smell of it brought on that all too eager aggression out in peering eyes that alertly took in the sight of his newfound location -- just for them to end up confused, befuddled, and paused. That woman on her chaise, he makes the mistake of looking at her, and his snarl his imminent. A painful, low yet primal sound erupts when he covers his eyes, as she was quite literally painful to look at, and the barest of glimpses had ran a vicious, pounding headache at the back of his skull. The uncanny, unnatural make of everything, along with her, and the voice of her that now whispered, it only fueled hiss disbelief in one expletive, "Fuck.."
It takes a while, but he manages to rub the glare out of his eyes - and look only low to the ground, to avoid the distinct location he just /felt/ the power and the magic emanate. He didn't hold outright trepidation, no fear ran amok to shiver him, but he was held wary, cautious, and only observant now in how he kept his attention to the unicorn, the hand, but not the handmaidens or the woman they all belonged to. "And.. What do I owe it to?" He manages to sound out, carefully, with half a step forward to crush one of those bulbous flowers sprouting at his feet under his boot, and stand on it like its an affront to nature. "Your attention, I mean.."
Up above Dean, there is a flutter of wings as a herd of Pegasus fly by. Angel wings of every pastel colour imaginable flap past in a dizzying display while hooves hang in the air. A single pegasus of white pure leads the herd - the stallion. Larger than the rest, it whinnies as it acknowledges the woman before him, lowering it's head towards it's fetlock. There are a few more whinnies as the herd circles above them once, twice, three times and then canters off into the distance.
The half step he takes pushes down on the bulb but there is no crushing here. His feet don't even touch the ground and the resilient stems of the grass under foot pad the bulbs life as well. The green stalks that he had just moved from flow back instantly, seamlessly so that one could not tell his foot had been there only moments ago.
"Oh.... I don't know..." The voice intones again in his head in response to his question. "I like dangerous beasts. Proud ones..." Her hand that Dean was staring at in an attempt not to look up was stroking along the unicorn's horn now as the creature blinked patiently underneath her. "They're so much fun to break..." There is a soft laughter, like the chiming of bells. "I am known as Aphrodite here. But you may call me mistress you if you wish. It's been a long time since Haven has had anyone as..... Oh... inticing as you. I simply could not resist..."
The hand lifts up from the horn once more to beckon him, "Come closer. Let me see you better." Is the whispered words. Quiet, non threatening however the tension in the air, as if the world collectively held it's breath to see what Dean might do, suggested that following her orders might be wise.
Inciting - instigating, that seems to be Dean's forte. He pays no heed to the flock above, no attention spared at anything in this strange world he's found himself in. As the vines, leaves, bulbs and petals return to what they once were after his small assault upon them, he does obey. Not willfully, but by the knowledge that doing otherwise may earn him ire that he couldn't handle. A beast as he is, he knew when to be the predator, and when to step away. Or did he, given his next words leveled at the woman while he spoke, watching her hand upon the unicorn's horn. "Call yourself whatever you like - but I am no fool. You can claim and pretend to be one of those Gods, but I know the stink of Fae when I hear it." In his gait, he approaches her tentatively, however aggresively nonetheless, to stay with the unicorn kept between her and him, as if the poor beast may prove to be a barrier for her hostility. "Which one are you from then? The Summer Court? Winter?" His fangs are slowly bared, elongated, vicious, more man than wolf while he extends his hand now, holds the horn that she caressed like he's about to snap it in half. "If I tear this out, will it bleed ichor.." And his eyes begin to hike higher. From the slender, delicate digits of her to her arms. Past the vulnerable incline of her throat, just to settle only at her lips and nothing more to keep his attention level and avoid gazing at her directly. "Or will it explode into mist and trickery?"
Did no one ever warn Dean the risks of touching unicorn horn? Let alone a unicorn horn still attached to an alive one. Vigor runs through him at the first touch - it washes away the tiredness and fatigue that tugged at him from a long days work. Lust is the second thing that rushes through him, pure, unadultered it sends his body into a state of instant readiness and keeps it there in a red haze. The unicorn calmly gets to it's feet once it's horn has done it's work. Dean's hands could not keep it down - no matter how hard he tried, that strength of his fails to get prevent it. Nothing could capture or keep a unicorn against it's will. At least not in this world. The unicorn lowers it's head towards the woman and then slowly trots off. "Unicorn horn..... A known aphrodesiac... Here.... It resets men. Allows them to perform over and over again for my pleasure without having to wait." The woman's voice is amused and Dean's eyes can see her full lips part. "How nice of you to be so eager. I thought I would've had a fight on my hands..." The throat he watches shifts as the woman infront of him swings her legs off of the chaise, sitting up upon that tiger printed fur. Her hands spread through the thick fur as if appreciating it's texture. "I am the Goddess of Light and Illusion Dean." Is the only response Dean gets in terms of her court. "All else doesn't matter here.... Does it?" The question is asked but little answer is expected as she sighs out a soft breath, "Kneel for me." That voice whispers with the echo of a thousand voices behind it.
In fact, Dean hadn't known that. It would've been great if he was informed - but alas, the unicorn, with his strength sapped in favor of empowering other things, easily manages to climb up and brush off his grasp, saunter away as it does while Dean is left standing, and in another moment, grinding his teeth. His jaw shifts with the effort, and his nostrils flare while his eyes just nearly dare to look up at the woman sitting up on her chaise. He denies her the satisfaction, bites his tongue to look away - and it renders him mute for that moment alone. Perhaps for the best, given he was about to spout more vitriolic bile to her in disbelief to her illusion and impersonation. Best he can do is struggle the command, even as heat rakes up his veins, climbs up his arms, descends down his abdomen - and he, against his will, not sinks but falls on a single knee. The defiant snarl rising from his throat is telling enough that she won't find a willing victim or subject in him, and one of his hands, now upon the ground, curl inward to catch dirt and grass, try to crush it in his palm with a vicious squeeze. He does manage at last, however, to snarl out; "Fuck you."
Caught between bewilderment and resistance, Dean's interaction with the Fae goddess unfolds with a mix of defiance and involuntary compliance. Despite the overwhelming enchantment of this pocket dream world, Dean's inherent skepticism and reluctance to submit keep him grounded, albeit shakily, in his sense of self. His attempt to assert control, or perhaps to provoke, by threatening the unicorn—a symbol of purity and strength in this surreal domain—only serves to deepen his entanglement in the Fae's web of seduction and power. The physical and mental effects of touching the unicorn hint at the potent magic at play, binding Dean to the whims of a creature whose desires and intentions are as capricious as they are inscrutable. Even as he finds himself kneeling, a gesture betraying the confrontation between his will and the enchantment ensnaring him, his defiant spirit remains unbroken. This story concludes with Dean caught in the throes of a power struggle, wherein his resistance is as much a testament to his character as the peculiar allure of the Fae proves to be a force beyond his reckoning.
(Dean's odd encounter(SRFreya):SRFreya)
[Thu Jul 4 2024]
At the Bar-and-Stage at The Alley
Carpeting stretches across the laminate flooring here, stained by footprints
and years of use, creating areas for lounge seating. Set up in front of a tiny
stage and a corner bar, here visitors are invited to grab a drink together, to
socialize, and perhaps even take the stage where a karaoke machine is prepared
for all those brave enough. The bar itself has seen better days, its counter a
gouged and scratched remnants of its former self, and almost all of the tables
and chairs in the room are similarly in need of either repair or replacements.
The corner bar displays a select assortment of draft beers and liquor - though
a good look behind the bar might cast the legitimacy of the liquor licenses in
doubt. Though dingy, the stools set up around this corner of the establishment
seem to be newer than any other furniture, featuring genuine ruddy-red leather
bar stools, and are actually pretty comfortable to sit on for lengthy periods.
It is dawn, about 88F(31C) degrees, and there are a few wispy white clouds in the sky.
(Your target is swept into a pocket dream world by a true Fae interested in a romantic liaison
)
It was a coolish night in Haven. A blissful respite for all it's residence much needed after a scorching 42 degree day. Doors and windows were flapping open lazily and it is honestly surprising there isn't a roaring business for security windows and grills given the normal denizens of Haven.
The beach is still not deserted even at this time of the night, with people chased out of sun heated homes finding somewhere to laze about and rest.
The moon is a small crescent in the sky with gentle clouds drifting past. There is no wind circle around it, signaling another hot, muggy, windless day tomorrow that the residents will just have to suffer.
Around the town air conditioner repairmen hurriedly try to make repairs on many devices that have broken down due to overuse and the heat and even the local residents, used to Haven's ups and downs seem sick of the sticky and hot weather.
In the Alley, which had not yet cooled down likely due to a lack of windows or ventilation or some mixture of another. Dean is finishing up at the bar. Everything had been wiped down, lemons and limes had been cut and fridged for another day and the salt shakers restocked for those margarita's licked off of stomachs. As he opens the door to his office for some quiet respite, the earth seems to drop out from beneath him without him stepping further. Reality shifts and bends and one moment he was at the alley - about to relax and the next minute he was in a insane land of pastel colours.
The sky was a pastel pink that stretched from one end of the horizon to the other. The trees, where they would be green were blue, lined with gold, their trunks made of the earthly metal they seemed to suck straight from the ground beneath. The ground was a lush pastel green with long blades of grass that were impossibly soft, their stalks bending under Dean's weight but not enough that his feet actually touched the ground. The felt like he was stepping on air.
Infront of him was a lush garden of strange plants that he had never seen before. Flowers the size of Dean's head grew from strange yellow and orange plants. Some of them were alive, snapping at each other while others turned towards the sun like flowers in earnest. Nestled in the center of the garden, on a decadant chaise lounge made of pure gold, a woman lays on a lion stripped fur that was by far too large to come from any earthly lion. Hair the colour of gold falls down to the ground in large waves at a length that would probably be longer than her entire body if she were standing. Eyes also the colour of molten gold stare out from a face that was so beautiful it hurt to look at. The rest of her body was no different, clad in a simple white Greek style gown if Greek were the skimpiest of styles. A single strip of white cloth ran was trapped in her waist, running up over one breast, around the back of her neck and then back down over the other breast. More strips of cloth covered her groin, criss crossing over it and the material of the gown itself, even from the distance Dean appreciates it at looks luxurious and expensive. The back of her dress is an actual skirt that is currently flowing around her bent legs. Her head rests upon one elbow and those brilliant eyes of gold are staring straight at Dean. Behind her, there are two women, dressed as Valkyries - very skimpy Valkyries who are holding two large palm fronds, gently waving it over her head.
At her side, a unicorn is lying down, allowing one of the woman's hands to reach over to pet the majestic creatures main.
"Hello Dean." A voice whispers both in Dean's ears and in his head at the same time. "Welcome to my world." The voice was lyrical, lustful and had a quality that made one want to listen to it forever while wanting to clap their hands over their ears at the same time. Too beautiful. Just like her. "I've been watching you..." The hand petting the unicorn lifts up towards Dean and a single finger, tipped in a perfect nail beckons towards Dean.
The sort of exhaustion one would have at the end of a long shift had plagued Dean, currently. Mental weight, as opposed to physical. With all that he had set out to do for his nightly shift nearly done, it was time to call in a break for a midnight meal, and there was really nowhere better than the back office for it. Or so he'd think. As he wiped his hands clean on a rag, tossed it over his shoulder at the bar - and told the other tender, the gothic lass that everyone has come to love and respect, to handle the rest of them on their own, which wasn't that big of a deal given they were just slumbering drunks sleeping halfway into their last call drinks, he turned away.
Yet, past that door, it wasn't the comfort of an office for workers. He didn't hear the scent of paint past it before everything swirled and swam and the earth underneath his feet replaced for something far, far different. It was thick with magic, and the smell of it brought on that all too eager aggression out in peering eyes that alertly took in the sight of his newfound location -- just for them to end up confused, befuddled, and paused. That woman on her chaise, he makes the mistake of looking at her, and his snarl his imminent. A painful, low yet primal sound erupts when he covers his eyes, as she was quite literally painful to look at, and the barest of glimpses had ran a vicious, pounding headache at the back of his skull. The uncanny, unnatural make of everything, along with her, and the voice of her that now whispered, it only fueled hiss disbelief in one expletive, "Fuck.."
It takes a while, but he manages to rub the glare out of his eyes - and look only low to the ground, to avoid the distinct location he just /felt/ the power and the magic emanate. He didn't hold outright trepidation, no fear ran amok to shiver him, but he was held wary, cautious, and only observant now in how he kept his attention to the unicorn, the hand, but not the handmaidens or the woman they all belonged to. "And.. What do I owe it to?" He manages to sound out, carefully, with half a step forward to crush one of those bulbous flowers sprouting at his feet under his boot, and stand on it like its an affront to nature. "Your attention, I mean.."
Up above Dean, there is a flutter of wings as a herd of Pegasus fly by. Angel wings of every pastel colour imaginable flap past in a dizzying display while hooves hang in the air. A single pegasus of white pure leads the herd - the stallion. Larger than the rest, it whinnies as it acknowledges the woman before him, lowering it's head towards it's fetlock. There are a few more whinnies as the herd circles above them once, twice, three times and then canters off into the distance.
The half step he takes pushes down on the bulb but there is no crushing here. His feet don't even touch the ground and the resilient stems of the grass under foot pad the bulbs life as well. The green stalks that he had just moved from flow back instantly, seamlessly so that one could not tell his foot had been there only moments ago.
"Oh.... I don't know..." The voice intones again in his head in response to his question. "I like dangerous beasts. Proud ones..." Her hand that Dean was staring at in an attempt not to look up was stroking along the unicorn's horn now as the creature blinked patiently underneath her. "They're so much fun to break..." There is a soft laughter, like the chiming of bells. "I am known as Aphrodite here. But you may call me mistress you if you wish. It's been a long time since Haven has had anyone as..... Oh... inticing as you. I simply could not resist..."
The hand lifts up from the horn once more to beckon him, "Come closer. Let me see you better." Is the whispered words. Quiet, non threatening however the tension in the air, as if the world collectively held it's breath to see what Dean might do, suggested that following her orders might be wise.
Inciting - instigating, that seems to be Dean's forte. He pays no heed to the flock above, no attention spared at anything in this strange world he's found himself in. As the vines, leaves, bulbs and petals return to what they once were after his small assault upon them, he does obey. Not willfully, but by the knowledge that doing otherwise may earn him ire that he couldn't handle. A beast as he is, he knew when to be the predator, and when to step away. Or did he, given his next words leveled at the woman while he spoke, watching her hand upon the unicorn's horn. "Call yourself whatever you like - but I am no fool. You can claim and pretend to be one of those Gods, but I know the stink of Fae when I hear it." In his gait, he approaches her tentatively, however aggresively nonetheless, to stay with the unicorn kept between her and him, as if the poor beast may prove to be a barrier for her hostility. "Which one are you from then? The Summer Court? Winter?" His fangs are slowly bared, elongated, vicious, more man than wolf while he extends his hand now, holds the horn that she caressed like he's about to snap it in half. "If I tear this out, will it bleed ichor.." And his eyes begin to hike higher. From the slender, delicate digits of her to her arms. Past the vulnerable incline of her throat, just to settle only at her lips and nothing more to keep his attention level and avoid gazing at her directly. "Or will it explode into mist and trickery?"
Did no one ever warn Dean the risks of touching unicorn horn? Let alone a unicorn horn still attached to an alive one. Vigor runs through him at the first touch - it washes away the tiredness and fatigue that tugged at him from a long days work. Lust is the second thing that rushes through him, pure, unadultered it sends his body into a state of instant readiness and keeps it there in a red haze. The unicorn calmly gets to it's feet once it's horn has done it's work. Dean's hands could not keep it down - no matter how hard he tried, that strength of his fails to get prevent it. Nothing could capture or keep a unicorn against it's will. At least not in this world. The unicorn lowers it's head towards the woman and then slowly trots off. "Unicorn horn..... A known aphrodesiac... Here.... It resets men. Allows them to perform over and over again for my pleasure without having to wait." The woman's voice is amused and Dean's eyes can see her full lips part. "How nice of you to be so eager. I thought I would've had a fight on my hands..." The throat he watches shifts as the woman infront of him swings her legs off of the chaise, sitting up upon that tiger printed fur. Her hands spread through the thick fur as if appreciating it's texture. "I am the Goddess of Light and Illusion Dean." Is the only response Dean gets in terms of her court. "All else doesn't matter here.... Does it?" The question is asked but little answer is expected as she sighs out a soft breath, "Kneel for me." That voice whispers with the echo of a thousand voices behind it.
In fact, Dean hadn't known that. It would've been great if he was informed - but alas, the unicorn, with his strength sapped in favor of empowering other things, easily manages to climb up and brush off his grasp, saunter away as it does while Dean is left standing, and in another moment, grinding his teeth. His jaw shifts with the effort, and his nostrils flare while his eyes just nearly dare to look up at the woman sitting up on her chaise. He denies her the satisfaction, bites his tongue to look away - and it renders him mute for that moment alone. Perhaps for the best, given he was about to spout more vitriolic bile to her in disbelief to her illusion and impersonation. Best he can do is struggle the command, even as heat rakes up his veins, climbs up his arms, descends down his abdomen - and he, against his will, not sinks but falls on a single knee. The defiant snarl rising from his throat is telling enough that she won't find a willing victim or subject in him, and one of his hands, now upon the ground, curl inward to catch dirt and grass, try to crush it in his palm with a vicious squeeze. He does manage at last, however, to snarl out; "Fuck you."